


Bath Time

by doridoripawaa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Cold, Cold Weather, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 14:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: Dimitri does not want to take a bath when the weather is so cold.





	Bath Time

Winters in Faerghus were undoubtedly the most brutal in all of Fòdlan, with a severity more intense than a ferocious dragon and more piercing than the sharpest lance. While Fhirdiad was normally a light, lively, luscious town full of energy and vitality, the dead of winter rendered the capital city... rather dead.  
  
The mighty king of Faerghus had overcome many trials in his life, ranging from attempts on his life in childhood to a war in his young adulthood. He had suffered mentally as well, against his own demons and against the bitter sting of betrayal. Nevertheless, he had survived each challenge and emerged out on the other end. He truly was a Blue Lion, the king of the jungle and now the king of a united continent.  
  
Against the whims of Mother Nature, even King Dimitri found himself vulnerable.  
  
"Goddess," he breathed as the tip of his toe tapped against the stone floor of his bedroom.  
  
Beside him, his wife rolled over.  
  
Dimitri attempted to place his entire foot on the floor, but his collision with the cold surface was so unbearable to his sensitive nerve endings that he immediately picked up his foot and rolled back into bed.  
  
"Dimi..." Byleth murmured groggily through half-open lips. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus on her husband's hulking figure. "What's wrong?"  
  
Dimitri flipped onto his side so that he could face his wife. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he brushed some messy strands of pale green hair away from her face. "Did I wake you?" Gingerly he pushed her bangs to the side and leaned in for a quick kiss on her forehead. "My beloved."  
  
Byleth lightly shook her head and began to sit up. Her muscles screeched in protest as she emerged from the blankets and out into the chilly Fhirdiad morning. "Do you not have a meeting this morning?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes sluggishly as she tried to gather her bearings.  
  
"I... I do," Dimitri replied in a low, sheepish voice. "I just... this moon is unusually cold," he murmured, a soft red hue spreading to his cheeks as he confessed his pitiful reason for staying in bed. "Even for Fhirdiad."  
  
Byleth was not about to disagree with him. As a mercenary, she spent most of her time in southern Fòdlan, where the climate was much more agreeable. In fact, she usually preferred to spend winters at the monastery instead of with her husband, but how could she abandon him when the new year was coming up?  
  
"I need to wash up, but the thought of crossing all the way to the bathroom..." Dimitri glanced longingly out across the room. "There are some battlefields I would prefer not to cross."  
  
Byleth reached over and began to run her fingers through his hair. "That sounds like a personal problem," she mused. "Although..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We could cross it together." A simple suggestion. A logical suggestion. After all, she had decided long ago that she would never send him out to any battlefield alone, whether literal or figurative.  
  
Much to her surprise, Dimitri had a very... dynamic reaction. "T-together?" he echoed. "To the bathroom? But then you would have to walk back to bed alone," he went on, a tinge of guilt touching his voice.  
  
Byleth tilted her head to the side. "I wanted to join you in the bath." That made the most sense, did it not? "Oh goddess, Dimitri, you really must be cold! Your nose is bright red." She leaned in towards his bright red nose, but much to her surprise it was extremely warm. The rest of his face was taking on this scarlet hue, too.  
  
"Together," she repeated.  
  
"I... I like the sound of that," Dimitri confessed. He leaned in and rested his forehead against his wife's. "On the count of three?"  
  
"One." Byleth reached out and grabbed his hand. It never ceased to amaze her how easily her petite hand slipped into the grip of his thick, large ones.  
  
"Two." Dimitri threw the blankets off of their bodies, until they were fully exposed and free of their restraints.  
  
"Three!" Hand in hand, heart in heart, the two of them jumped off of the bed. As the bare soles of their feet collided with the cold stone ground, shivers ran up their respective spines, but they pushed forward. Dimitri was practically dragging Byleth along, he was so desperate to get off of the icy ground.  
  
Seeing her husband fleeing so frantically, with all of his might focused on facing forward, Byleth could not help but smile. In fact, if Dimitri was not mistaken, she may have even cracked a chuckle.  
  
And that alone made the journey worthwhile.  
  
A bath together still sounded nice, though.  


* * *

  
  
Winters in Faerghus were undoubtedly the most brutal in all of Fòdlan. However, this time, when King Dimitri slipped his toe onto the ground before him, he felt a rush of relief as the warm bath encompassed his foot. The heat spread up from his leg to crash like a wave of comfort over his entire body.  
  
"Is it warm enough?" Byleth asked, trying to peek around her husband's broad shoulders.  
  
"Perfect," he cooed. "Thank you, my beloved."  
  
Byleth smiled softly as her husband patted her on the head, slightly ruffling her seafoam green hair. "Then let's wash up."  
  
Dimitri flushed a little but nodded in agreement. He moved his hands to the bottom of his shirt so that he could fling the old loungewear off of his body, but much to his surprise, his hands came into contact not with cloth, but with another, smaller pair of hands.  
  
An impossibly warm pair of hands slipped underneath his shirt, and they rested for a moment upon his abdomen, spreading heat throughout his chest. "My beloved," he murmured softly. "Is this what you had in mind?" As Byleth grabbed the edges of his shirt, he stretched his arms upward to aid her in removing the garment. Once he was free, he reached forward and slipped his hands underneath her top.  
  
"Dimitri," Byleth whispered. "Your hands are so cold."  
  
"Why do you think I need the hot bath?" Dimitri laughed. Keeping her comments in mind, however, Dimitri was very gentle as he pried the shirt from her body and began to lift it over her head. He moved his fingers as gingerly as possible, not wanting to accidentally tear the fabric apart at the seams. Nevertheless, he could not resist resting his palm upon his wife's abs for a brief moment, and as he raised her shirt higher and higher, he was forced to bring his hands against her skin once again. "How do women put shirts on?" he muttered under his breath as he tried to finesse her top over her breasts. When he finally got the shirt over Byleth's head-- somehow without ripping it-- he leaned forward and rested his chin on the crown of her head. "May I touch you now?" he whispered.  
  
"Only if I may touch you, Your Highness," Byleth whispered back. "But we would be better off waiting for the bath."  
  
He could at least concede that point.  
  
While he was still leaning over, Byleth poked his abs, spreading each finger out to a different part of his stomach. Then she allowed her fingers to dance down from his abdomen to his v lines, and she traced them absent-mindedly. When Dimitri shuddered, she paused for a moment, not wanting to overwhelm him. Then carefully she slipped her hand into his underpants, so that she could aid in removing them.  
  
However, once her hand came into contact with the king's crown jewels, she could not help but give him a little squeeze.  
  
"G-goddess!" Dimitri cried. He had not expected such forward action on behalf of his generally stoic wife. Moments of their honeymoon then flashed before his eyes. A small scowl tugged at the corners of his mouth. He would probably have to talk to Sylvain later.  
  
The aggravated look on Dimitri's face apparently prompted Byleth to stop. "No good?" She immediately slid her hand upward, careful not to disturb him too much as her hand departed the scene. She drew it back to her bare chest, looking somewhat sheepish and uncomfortable.  
  
"N-no, that's not... You're perfect, my beloved," Dimitri tried to reassure her. "I am just very cold and eager to get in the bath." Maybe that would appease her?  
  
Judging from her pursed lips, Byleth did not believe him entirely, but she was willing to accept that explanation. She began to remove her own pajama pants, and with an inward sigh, Dimitri began to do the same.  
  
With their clothes sitting at their feet and the heat of embarrassment finally leaving them, the couple became acutely aware of just how bitter the morning winter air was. Dimitri hastily scampered to the bathtub and eagerly stepped in.  
  
"Ahh... thank you, goddess," he murmured in a low coo as he slid his body down into the warm embrace of the bath water. He stretched his legs out before him and allowed himself to sink further and further until only his eyes and nose were visible above the surface of the water.  
  
An even warmer embrace soon wrapped around him like the softest, coziest blanket as Byleth lowered herself into the bath. Since her tall, broad husband had sprawled himself out in the tiny tub, not enough space was available for her to occupy even a nook or cranny in the corner. Without any other choice, she had opted to sit directly on top of him. Carefully she stuck her feet in, trying not to step on him, and then she lowered her bottom until she was sitting at the base of his abdomen. She spread her legs out so that one foot rested on either side of him, and then she lowered her torso to rest on top of his.  
  
"You're welcome," she mumbled in a low voice as she gazed down at the crown of his head with a gentle grin.  
  
She was visibly straining to keep her head above the water, though, so Dimitri knew the two of them could not stay in this position. With a groan, Dimitri lifted himself up so that his head, shoulders, and pecs broke the water's surface. As he pulled himself into this sitting position, Byleth slid backward so that she was sitting directly on his lap now. Now that they were both upright, Byleth took the opportunity to lean forward and caress the king's face. "Is it not warm enough? Your chin is still so cold."  
  
"I can fix that." Dimitri smirked softly and then thrust his head forward, no longer able to resist himself. He rested his chin atop her chest, relishing in the heat that radiated from her kind, caring bosom. Much to his delight, Byleth lowered her own chin until it was resting on top of his head. Sensing that she was enjoying this just as much as he was, he dared to go a little further. He tilted his head to pull his chin back, and then he shoved the tip of his nose in between her breasts. "Soft..." he mumbled, partially muffled by her breast tissue as he wormed his way further into her welcoming bosom. As Byleth began to stroke the top of his head, he could not hold back the purr rumbling deep in his throat. It shook his core and then spread up through his throat and out into the narrow crevice between Byleth's warm boobs. Goddess, the tip of his cold nose was warming up so rapidly in this hot heaven. Maybe he could warm his shivering lips up as well. Delicately he leaned forward some more and then creened his neck to the side so that his face was entirely nuzzled into her left breast. Directly above her heart, Dimitri pulled back his lips and gave her the slightest little nip, and then he swiftly pressed his lips forward again to plant two gentle kisses on top of the sharp little bite marks. A moan of delight shook Byleth's chest and escaped her gentle lips above him, and so he did it again, this time a little lower and closer to her nipple.  
  
"Hard," Byleth declared all of a sudden. Puzzled, Dimitri drew back so that he was face to face with his wife. He rested his hot nose tip against her chilly one.  
  
'If only she knew just how comfortable it was to rest her nose inside her breasts,' he thought. "Hard?" he echoed.  
  
Byleth looked directly into his perplexed, gentle blue gaze. "Hard," she echoed. "Poking me."  
  
As realization dawned on Dimitri, he nearly jumped out of the bathtub. "I am s-so sorry!" he stammered, as heat spread across his face from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "I..."  
  
Was he imagining things, or was his wife actually smirking at him? "You've warmed up considerably," she commented nonchalantly. Suddenly a small frown crept onto her face. "I'm still a little cold."  
  
Fighting down his embarrassment, Dimitri tried to give her a confident smile in return. "Well, that simply will not do, Your Grace."  
  
Your Grace. Of course he used that title when referring to her in her professional capacity, but depending on his tone, he also had another purpose for using that name for his wife.  
  
He used it when he wanted to help the Archbishop see the goddess.  
  
"Let's get you more comfortable," Dimitri began, and he reached down to lift his wife off of his lap. His fingers squeezed her bottom as he picked her up and placed him on top of his v lines. The feeling of her plump flesh beneath his finger tips, however, only made the situation worse as he felt himself get even harder. Unbeknownst to him, his fingernails began to dig into her skin, and he did not notice until she drew his attention to them.  
  
"Sharp," she commented.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Sharp," she repeated, and with a heave she pried his fingers off of her rear end. "Maybe I should take the lead for a moment," she murmured at last after a few seconds of awkward silence.  
  
Dimitri just nodded, and he could feel his face getting red once again. Byleth leaned forward again until her hands were resting on top of his abs again. Carefully she began to dig her nails into his skin, but she came into contact with muscle rather shortly. Nevertheless, the pricking sensation sent a tingle up Dimitri's spine. Seeming pleased by this reaction, Byleth allowed her hand to brush up her abs and to his pecs. She then pressed forward so that her breasts her planted firmly against his chest, and then she rubbed her face against the narrow space between his chest, just as he had done to her. "Hard," she murmured, "but warm." Before she drew back entirely, she sprinkled a deep scar on his chest with kisses. She always was gentle and considerate around this particular scar, even giving it extra attention when she kissed all his scars, as she had tendency to do. _She may have betrayed you, but I will always be here. She may have rejected your kindness, but I will always see the good in you. She may have scoured and scorned your heart, but I will always protect and praise it._  
  
Suddenly she slid backward into his lap again.  
  
"Do you wish to warm up some more, Your Grace?"  
  
"Please lead me well, Your Highness."  
  
He took a deep breath and plunged his head underneath the water. He could barely hear Byleth gasp before he was completely submerged. Carefully he opened his good eye and tried to blink a couple of times in the murky, rippling tides below. His eye narrowed as he closed in on his goal, and he carefully pressed his head forward. He stuck out his tongue in the salty, sweaty bathwater, but he did not mind its hot, muddy flavor. His tongue began to dance around Byleth's sacred sacral regions for as long as he could muster, before he ran out of breath and was forced to break the surface of the water.  
  
"How was that?" he breathed. Judging from the tingling and yelping he could somehow distinguish even from his position beneath the water's surface, she did not seem displeased. He could not be certain, because of the water, but it's possible that all of their fooling around followed by his sudden taste had already made her wet.  
  
Byleth swept his sopping wet bangs out of his eyes, and her gentle smile radiated warmth like the sun's rays outside. Her smile was like winter sunshine: faint, but even more stunning because of how desperately he needed it and how rare it seemed to be. She began to trace the old scar on his eye with her nimble, delicate fingers, then she leaned into his face so that she could peck him atop and beneath his bad eye, as if to soothe the scar and dull its pain.  
  
Byleth repositioned herself now, resting her pelvis against his own. Dimitri, however, was the one who lunged forward like a warrior wielding a sacred lance in battle. He reached forward to rest his hands on her shoulders, stabilizing himself so he could always be too sure that he never went too hard.  
  
Luckily for him, Byleth had the strength of Sothis herself. Byleth grabbed each of his arms, and she pulled herself forward. They swayed back and forth from head to toe, as if at the winter ball back in their days at the academy. As Dimitri plunged himself further into Byleth, her swaying became less and less, and it turned more into intense vibrating and bouncing.  
  
"Di...mi...tri..." she moaned. "Your Highness!" she squeaked suddenly, and he immediately stopped. The Crest-- or rather curse-- of Blaiddyd had lent him unfathomable strength throughout his life, and for most of his life he had not minded it. After all, he had been living for revenge for nine years in his youth, and his inhuman strength served as a valuable tool in achieving his objective to silence the screams of his loved ones and ensure that their souls, and his own, could finally be at peace. Once Byleth and Rodrigue taught him to live for himself, however, his bloodlust and his obsession with vengeance and destruction had died down, and the weeping wails had whittled down to a whisper. Now, in times of peace, his strength was almost burdensome, and nothing instilled more fear in him than the thought of accidentally bringing harm to the one he loves. The one who taught him how to live and love.  
  
"My-my beloved?" he whispered tenderly, and he carefully rested his forehead against his wife's. Her hot, panting breaths beat onto his face and his neck, and her sweet but sweaty aroma wrapped around him like a fur cloak. "Are you alright?" When she did not respond, the terror that had been lingering in the pit of his chest began to creep up, and he forcibly swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Each moment of silence was agonizing, and even though his head was well above the water, Dimitri felt as though he were drowning in the depths of his own despair.  
  
"I... I am fine," Byleth gasped at last. She blinked adoringly at her husband. "I just... Goddess. I wish you would not worry so much." She pressed forward until her eyelashes were kissing his cheeks and her lips were brushing his own. "I want this," she murmured. "I want you. I want you... to be happy."  
  
"I am happy," he assured her immediately. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to become immersed in the archbishop's presence. Truly, being surrounded by her touch, her scent, her image, and her voice was a holy experience. "I cannot remember the last time I felt such joy. My beloved..."  
  
"I want you to live, Dimitri." Byleth gently pinched his nose. "I want you to live life the way you want. So please... do not fret so much. I am stronger than I look."  
  
"I am living," he assured her, and he shook his head to try to free himself from her grip. "I am living for me... by loving you."  
  
With that, he lunged forward once again, but this time with his blushing, flustered face. He pressed his lips against hers and shoved his tongue into the warm crevice ahead of him. Much to his delight, her tongue met his, and their dance continued once again as their lips pressed back and forth against each other and their tongues took turns in their sway, pushing back and forth and occasionally intertwining.  
  
With a huge heave, Dimitri suddenly wrapped his arms around Byleth and pulled her into an embrace, then flipped her over so that he was poised on top of her like a lion who just caught its prey. "May I?"  
  
Byleth gazed up at her lion king with laughter dancing in her eyes and a smile on her face. Just like the winter sun. "School me," she breathed.  
  
He dove forward again, dove into her. Splashing, laughing, moaning, relishing, screeching, panting, gasping, loving.  
  
Finally, the lion king leaned back and pulled Byleth into a sitting position with him. She rested her head against his pecs, and he pawed at her beautiful face and began to run his thick fingers through her hair. He then began to nuzzle into her neck. "My nose is cold again," he explained, as if he needed to justify his actions. He kissed and sucked at her neck, silently grateful for the fact that winter would require her to wear concealing clothes that would hide her collarbone and neck anyway.  
  
"Ohhh, Dimitri," Byleth moaned, and she gave his bottom a squeeze as he continued to bite at her. Suddenly she jerked upright, nearly sending her husband flying backward into the water from the sheer surprise. "Hey, Dimitri?"  
  
"Yes, my beloved?" Was everything alright?  
  
"What happened to taking an actual bath?"  
  
Somehow, the pair that was entrusted with all of Fòdlan had forgotten something so simple.  
  
Maybe winters in Fhirdiad were livelier than they thought.


End file.
